THE  WIDENING  LIGHT 


CARRIE  WILLIAMS  CLIFFORD 


THE  WIDENING   LIGHT 


THE  WIDENING  LIGHT 


BY 

CARRIE  WILLIAMS  CLIFFORD 


WALTER  REID  COMPANY 

BOSTON 


I. 


Primed  in  the  United  SUtfs  of  Am<-rica 


Copyright  1922 
By  WALTER  REID  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


CONDE  NAST  PRESS     GREENWICH,  CONN. 


To 
MY  RACE 


2201245 


CONTENTS 

Page 

A  TOAST  TO  AFRICA i 

MOTHERS  OF  AMERICA 2 

To  PHYLLIS  WHEATLEY 3 

FREDERICK.  DOUGLASS / 4 

WILLIAM  STANLEY  BRAITHWAITE 5 

To  HOWARD  UNIVERSITY 7 

PAUL  LAURENCE  DUNBAR       8 

WITHIN  THE  VEIL 9 

A  DREAM  OF  DEMOCRACY 10 

PERIL n 

SOUL-GROWTH 12 

NEGRO  PLAYERS  ON  BROADWAY 13 

THE  GOAL 14 

RACE-HATE 15 

SILENT  PROTEST  PARADE 16 

LITTLE  MOTHER 19 

DECEIVED      21 

THE  BLACK  DRAFTEE  FROM  DIXIE - 22 

TERCENTENARY  OF  THE  LANDING  OF  SLAVES  AT  JAMESTOWN  1619-1919  23 

TOMORROW 24 

FUTILITY - 25 

OUR  WOMEN  OF  THE  CANTEEN      26 

THE  FREEDMAN        27 

AN  EASTER  MESSAGE      28 

SHRINES 29 

LIKE  You      30 

THREE  SONNETS:      31 

I.   Appeal 

II.   Demand 

III.   Warning 

OLD  IRONSIDES     33 

THE  FLIGHT 35 

WEEDS 37 

THE  GIFT 38 

RESPITE 39 

[vii] 


Page 

THE  BIRTH  OF  A  NATION        40 

PRAYER  FOR  DELIVERANCE 41 

VANITAS 42 

MOODS 43 

To  44 

SON 45 

FRIENDSHIP 46 

ABANDONMENT 47 

TEARS 48 

QUEST 49 

Loss 50 

ENTREATY 51 

TOGETHER 52 

SUNDAY  ON  GRASMERE  LAKE 53 

LIFE  AND  DEATH      54 

GOD 55 

SPRING 56 

POETRY 57 

ECSTASY 58 

COMPENSATION 59 

EGYPTIAN  SPHINX 60 

BEAUTIFUL  HANDS       61 

LINCOLN ^ 62 

OLD  OCEAN  AND  THE  SHORE       63 

THE  NEW  YEAR 65 


[viiij 


THE  WIDENING  LIGHT 

("  But  above  all  comes  the  New  Spirit"    CRISIS.) 

A  sound  of  muttering,  faint  and  far  and  low — 

A  sound  of  stirring  restlessly  about — 

A  harsher  note  and  frequently  a  shout — 

Of  red  defiance?  not  of  peace  I  trow; 

Oh,  self  deceived  and  blind  who  do  not  know 

The  meaning  of  this  unaccustomed  rout! 

Do  you  not  feel  the  frenzy?   Can  you  doubt 

The  triumph  of  Race  Hatred's  overthrow? 

The  moving  millions  of  the  darker  clan 

Have  wakened  to  Jehovah's  ancient  cry — 

Not  stunted,  greedy,  boastful,  pale-faced  man 

Omnipotent  is — "verily  none  save  //" 

And  piercing  the  dark  clouds  of  dreadful  night 

Behold!  they  greet  the  light,  the  light,  The  Light! 


[ix] 


A  TOAST  TO  AFRICA 

Christmas,  1920 

From  a  goblet  of  rarest  and  richest  red  gold, 
Encrusted  with  jewels  of  value  untold, 
All  flowing  and  glowing  with  nectar  of  wine, 
Distilled  from  the  spirits  of  souls  sweet  and  fine 
As  these  sons  and  daughters  whose  deeds  I  rehearse, 
With  zeal  all-consuming,  though  halting  my  verse- 
I  drink  to  my  Race  on  this  epochal  morn, 
Remembering  the  Christ-child  who  came  lowly- 
born, — 

Was  despised,  crucified  and  rejected  of  men, 
But  now  to  whom  honor  and  glory — Amen! 


MOTHERS  OF  AMERICA 

A  sonnet  celebrating  the  heroism  and  valor  of  the  women 
of  America,  black  and  white  ,  in  the  Great  War 
for  world  democracy, 


Ye,  Queen,  who  bear  the  birth-pangs  of  a  world, 

To  whom  the  nations  in  this  hour  of  stress, 

For  succor  look,  and  for  the  ruth  to  bless, 

Ye,  great,  whose  fondled  darlings,  combed  and  curled, 

Are  in  the  shell-torn,  foreign  trenches  hurled, 

To  stay  the  hellish  Hun,  who  else  would  press, 

The  cup  of  degradation  and  distress, 

To  lips  of  men  with  freedom's  flag  unfurled— 

Ye  valiant  mother-band  who  gladly  gave, 

The  first-fruits  of  your  riven  wombs  to  save, 

The  world  from  horrors  darker  than  the  grave, 

Ye  are  the  Brave,  who  in  your  country's  need 

Did  sow  the  trenches  with  your  Precious  Seed— 

The  greatest  gift  of  war,  and  valor's  noblest  deed. 


TO  PHYLLIS  WHEATLEY 

(First  African  Poetess) 

No!   Not  like  the  lark,  didst  thou  circle  and  sing, 

High  in  the  heavens  on  morn's  merry  wing, 

But  hid  in  the  depths  of  the  forest's  dense  shade, 

There  where  the  homes  of  the  lowly  were  made, 

Thou  nested!  Though  fettered,  thou  frail  child  of  night, 

Thy  melody  trilled  forth  with  naive  delight; 

And  all  through  the  throes  of  the  night  dark  and  long, 

Earth's  favored  ones  harkened  thy  ravishing  song, 

So  plaintive  and  wild,  touched  with  Africa's  lilt; 

Of  wrong  small  complaint,  sweet  forgiveness  of  guilt  — 

Oh,  a  lyric  of  love  and  a  paean  of  praise, 

Didst  thou  at  thy  vespers,  Dark  Nightingale,  raise; 

So  sweet  was  the  hymn  rippling  out  of  the  dark, 

It  rivalled  the  clear  morning  song  of  the  lark. 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS 

(In  honor  of  the  centenary  of  his  birth — February  1817-1917} 

A  century  of  mighty  thoughts  has  passed, 
Of  mighty  deeds  and  Merlin-magic  years, 
Since  first  his  infant  wail  assailed  the  ears 
That  knew  not  how  prophetic  was  the  blast! 
Then  swiftly  sped  the  years  into  the  vast 
Store-house  of  time!  The  bitter  vale-of- tears 
Was  vanquished,  and  the  dark  abyss-of-fears; 
The  thing,  transformed,  became  a  Soul  at  last! 
Search  noble  history's  most  stirring  page, 
And  tell  what  life  excelled  his  in  the  race; 
Trace  deeds  of  daring  men  in  every  age 
And  say  if  one  out-rivalled  this  dark  face. 
Great  Douglass — slave  and  fugitive  and  Man, 
With  the  immortal  host,  thou  art  in  the  van! 


[4] 


WILLIAM  STANLEY  BRAITHWAITE 

(To  William  Stanley  Eraithwaite  upon  his  visit  to 
Washington,  D.  C.,  April,  /<?/<5) 

An  Appreciation 

He  came  like  John  of  old  to  all  proclaiming 

The  Bread  of  Life;  to  our  starved  senses  bringing 

The  breath  of  April  in  his  offerings! 

The  resurrection  of  our  better  selves 

Commanded  he:  the  spirit-half  of  our 

Dual  existence,  called  he  back  to  life; 

Revived  in  us  the  ancient  thirst  for  Truth, 

The  search  for  Beauty  'long  the  dusty  ways 

And  sordid  places  of  our  journeyings. 

Like  John  he  came  to  our  world-wilderness 

The  real  from  the  false  to  separate; 

The  Light  to  set  before  our  stumbling  feet! 

And  some  whose  ears  had  long  been  deaf  to  Truth, 

Whose  hearts  thro'  greed  had  hardened  into  stones, 

Were  purified,  revived  and  lifted  up 

By  the  persuasive  magic  of  his  song. 


I?  Envoi 

O  poet,  with  thy  soul-wrought  visionings, 
O  prophet,  with  thy  wise  philosophies, 
O  poet-prophet,  prophet-poet,  Come 
Again  to  our  low  dwelling-places!   Come 


And  bring  the  balm  of  healing  on  thy  tongue! 
Oh,  wash  us  clean  with  fresh  Aprilian  showers, 
Re-light  the  altar  candles  of  our  souls! 


[6] 


TO  HOWARD  UNIVERSITY 

{Semi-Centennial  Celebration,  March, 


The  pall  of  battle  scarce  had  passed  away, 

Hearts  yet  were  hot  with  hate  and  hard  with  greed, 

When  some  love-kindled  spirit  hid  the  seed, 

Whose  spreading  branches  shelter  us  today; 

Beloved  Mother,  you  for  whom  we  pray, 

Be  fortified  to  meet  our  every  need, 

At  your  full  breasts  the  hungry  children  feed, 

Nor  turn  a  single  thirsting  soul  away! 

What  hath  God  wrought  in  fifty  years!  we've  crossed 

The  Valley-of-Humiliation:  then 

Advancing  up  the  Hill-of-Progress,  tossed 

A  Challenge  to  the  world  of  other  men. 

And  reaching  out  for  all  that's  manhood's  due 

Our  thanks  go  winging  up  to  God  —  and  You! 


PAUL  LAURENCE  DUNBAR 

(Upon  reading  the  Introduction  to  "Lyrics  of  Lowly  Life" 
by  William  Dean  Howells) 

The  beetling  night  was  fading  toward  the  dawn, 
When  strange,  weird  sounds  smote  subtly  on  the  ear 
Of  one  far  up  the  heights,  who  paused  to  hear 
The  song  of  him,  who  doggedly  pressed  on 
From  that  low  vale  whence  Hope  seemed  almost  gone. 
Persistently  the  sound  rose  loud  and  clear 
Surcharged  of  times  with  radiating  cheer— 
Of  times  with  sadness  of  a  soul  in  pawn. 

The  hearthside  lyrics  trickled  from  his  heart, 

With  simple  melody  and  baffling  art! 

A  traveller  above  called  down  the  slope 

And  Dunbar  answered,  "Comrade!  now  I  hope!" 

One  white,  one  black,  but  one  in  spirit,  they 

Symbolic  are  of  God's  Eternal  Way! 


[8] 


WITHIN  THE  VEIL 

And  ye,  who  view  life  darkly  thro'  a  veil 
At  length  shall  read  its  riddle  face  to  face! 
The  hidden  springs  of  beauty  and  the  grace 
Of  fuller  living,  wait  beyond  this  trail 
Blood-stained  and  steep:  there  stands  the  Holy  Grail 
Whose  healing  waters  shall  the  woes  efface, 
Of  plodding  pilgrims,  who  still  seek  the  place 
W7here  men  of  every  race  shall  say,  "All  hail!" 
To  this  broad  shrine,  we  too  shall  bring  our  gift 
Of  joyous  laughter,  song  and  loyal  love; 
And  rank  on  rank  still  surging  up,  we'll  lift 
Hosannahs  to  the  God-of-W7orlds,  above! 
His  listening  ear  will  catch  our  minor,  sweet, 
Making  the  concord  of  the  spheres  complete! 


A  DREAM  OF  DEMOCRACY 

Depressed  in  spirit  and  harassed  by  thought 

Of  war,  and  all  its  festering,  foul  brood, — 

Grim  death,  gaunt  suffering  and  loathsome  food— 

I  fell  into  a  trance,  being  much  o'er-wrought: 

A  vision  marvelous  my  fancy  caught! 

Afar  upon  the  Mount  of  Ages,  stood 

Old  Father  Time;  and  from  his  hands  a  flood— 

(Increased  by  countless  putrid  streams  that  brought 

Debris  of  all  earth's  cruelty  and  crime, 

Intolerance,  injustice,  rape  and  wrong, 

Until  the  putrefaction,  stench  and  slime 

Befouled  the  universe) — swept  swift  along> 

And  lost  itself  in  a  deep  crystal  sea,— 

The  cleansing  Ocean  of  Democracy. 


[10] 


PERIL 

As,  when  some  filthy  sore  grows  menacing, 

Polluting  all  the  currents  of  pure  air, 

Dispersing  its  vile  atoms  everywhere — 

While  with  death-poisoned  tentacles  they  cling, 

To  our  hearts'  treasuries,  devouring, 

And  laying  waste  the  temples  of  our  care,— 

The  surgeon  with  blade  kind  but  firm  lays  bare 

And  cuts  away  the  flesh,  foul,  festering: — 

So  must  the  learned  doctors  of  the  State 

Relentlessly  cut  the  leprous  sore 

Of  prejudice!  else  will  they  find  too  late, 

Its  rank  corruption  eating  thro'  the  core 

Of  human  brotherhood!   Grim  germs  of  Hate, 

Razing  our  kingdom  with  titanic  roar! 


[ill 


SOUI^GROWTH 

(Upon  the  lack  of  opportunity  afforded  the  Negro} 

Atom  of  God!  spark  of  the  Infinite! 

Illimitable  thy  majestic  sway, 

Where  influences  salutary  play, 

Thy  powers  to  unfold  to  utmost  height! 

Potential  gods,  all,  all  who  strive  aright, 

Defended  from  the  pompous  world's  array 

Of  hostile  forces,  dragging  to  decay 

Ideals  of  highest  honor,  truth  and  right: 

Nurtured  by  rain  and  shine  the  queenly  rose 

In  sheltered  garden  to  perfection  grows; 

But  on  the  desert,  without  loving  care, 

Is  left  to  perish  miserably  there. 

So  with  the  Soul!  if  faith  and  culture  fail, 

"'Twill  grow  deformed  and  choked  within  the  veil"! 


NEGRO  PLAYERS  ON  BROADWAY 

(The  Ridgley  Torrence  plays  presented  on  Broadway 
by  Mrs.  Emilie  G.  Hapgood^  April^ 


Behold!  a  Star  is  trembling  in  the  East, 
Whose  pale  light  heralds  a  triumphant  day, 
The  greatness  of  whose  promise  none  can  say, 
Nor  who  the  guest  of  honor  at  the  feast, 
When  from  the  thrall  of  prejudice  released, 
Men  see  the  Soul  behind  the  Veil  of  Clay. 
Then  brother  recognizing  brother,  may 
Divine  that  least  is  great  and  great  is  least. 

A  beacon  in  the  wilderness,  O  Star, 

With  ox-like  eyes  we  note  your  lureful  gleam. 

And  Star,  so  faintly  shining  from  afar, 

With  God-like  faith  we  watch  the  widening  stream 

Of  light!     Ho,  Christ  has  come!  the  perfect  day 

In  glory  breaks  never  to  pass  away! 


THE  GOAL 

("  To  make  the  world  safe  for  democracy  ") 

Exalted  goal!   Oh,  coveted  ideal, 
Which  but  to  contemplate,  causes  to  steal 
Within  the  heart,  the  sting  of  ecstasy! 
Oh,  fateful  words!   Oh,  potent  prophecy, 
Which  yet  shall  make  entrenched  wrong  to  reel 
And  stagger  from  the  place  of  power — to  feel 
The  odium  of  men,  outraged,  set  free! 
Tho'  now  the  words  are  empty,  void  of  life, 
And  soothly  uttere,d  to  allay  the  strife 
And  discontent  with  which  the  world  is  rife, 
These  words  shall  yet  become  a  fervent  creed, 
And  vivified  to  meet  The  Peoples'  need, 
Shall  fructify  into  heroic  deed. 


[14] 


RACE-HATE 

(On  the  East  St.  Louis  riot,  July  28,  79/7) 

What  infamies  have  been  condoned,  O  Hate, 
What  sin,  what  guilt,  what  horrors  in  thy  name! 
Such  bestial  revelries  which  else  would  shame 
The  darkest  heathen  in  his  virgin  state! 
Yet  know  that  judgment  on  thine  acts  doth  wait, 
And  Time  will  write  with  pen  of  leaping  flame 
The  ghastly  story — how  thou  didst  defame 
God's  living  temples — craven,  crafty  Hate! 
For  thou  hast  none  deceived,  not  e'en  thyself, 
Thy  bloody  hands  are  raised  J or  power  and  pelf! 
Hath  not  the  lesson  of  the  Ages  taught, 
Thy  seeming  triumphs  are  too  dearly  bought? 
Cold  seas  of  blood  convulse  thy  coward  heart; 
Already  crushed,  defeated,  doomed  thou  art! 


SILENT  PROTEST  PARADE 

(On  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York,  Saturday,  July  28, 
protesting  against  the  St.  Louis  riots) 


Were  you  there?   Did  you  see?   Gods!  wasn't  it  fine! 

Did  you  notice  how  straight  we  kept  the  line, 

As  we  marched  down  the  famous  avenue, 

Silent,  dogged  and  dusky  of  hue, 

Keeping  step  to  the  sound  of  the  muffled  drum, 

With  its  constantly  recurring  turn  —  turn,  turn  — 

Turn  —  Turn  —  Turn  —  Turn  —  Turn; 

Ten  thousand  of  us,  if  there  was  one! 

As  goodly  a  sight  as  this  ancient  sun 

Has  ever  looked  upon! 

Youth  and  maid 
Father,  mother  —  not  one  afraid 
Or  ashamed  to  let  the  whole  world  know 
What  he  thought  of  the  hellish  East  St.  Louis  "show," 
Orgy  —  riot  —  mob  —  what  you  will, 
Where  men  and  e'en  women  struggled  to  kill 
Poor  black  workers,  who'd  fled  in  distress  from  the  South 
To  find  themselves  murdered  and  mobbed  in  the  North. 

We  marched  as  a  protest  —  we  carried  our  banner, 
On  which  had  been  boldly  inscribed  every  manner 
Of  sentiment  —  all,  to  be  sure,  within  reason— 
But  no  flag  —  not  that  we  meant  any  treason- 
Only  who'd  have  the  heart  to  carry  Old  Glory, 

[16] 


After  hearing  all  of  the  horrible  story, 

Of  East  St.  Louis?  and  never  a  word, 

From  the  nation's  head,  as  if  he'd  not  heard 

The  groans  of  the  dying  ones  here  at  home, 

Though  'tis  plain  he  can  hear  even  farther  than  Rome. 

Oh,  yes,  I  was  there  in  the  Silent  Parade, 
And  a  man  (he  was  white)  I  heard  when  he  said, 
"If  they  had  music  now,  'twould  be  great !"- 
"We  march  not,  sir,  with  hearts  elate, 
But  sad;   we  grieve  for  our  dark  brothers 
Murdered,  and  we  hope  that  others 
Will  heed  our  protest  against  wrong, 
Will  help  to  make  our  protest  strong." 

Were  you  there?   Ah,  brothers,  wasn't  it  fine! 

The  children — God  bless  'em — headed  the  line; 

Then  came  the  mothers  dressed  in  white, 

And  some — my  word!   'twas  a  thrilling  sight — 

Carried  their  babies  upon  their  breast, 

Face  tense  and  eager  as  forward  they  pressed, 

With  never  a  laugh  and  never  a  word, 

But  ever  and  always,  the  thing  they  heard 

W7as  the  turn — turn — ,  turn,  turn, 

Of  the  muffled  drum — turn,  tum^  turn! 

And  last  the  black-coated  men  swung  by, 
Head  up,  chest  firm,  determined  eye — 
I  was  so  happy,  I  wanted  to  cry. 

[171 


As  I  watched  the  long  lines  striding  by, 

(Ten  thousand  souls  if  there  was  one) 

And  I  knew  that  "to  turn,  the  worm  had  begun," 

As  we  marched  down  Fifth  Avenue  unafraid 

And  calm,  in  our  first  Silent  Protest  Parade! 


[18] 


LITTLE  MOTHER 

( Upon  the  lynching  of  Mary  Turner) 

Oh,  tremble,  Little  Mother, 
For  your  dark-eyed,  unborn  babe, 
Whom  in  your  secret  heart  you've  named 
The  well-loved  name  of  "Gabe." 

For  Gabriel  is  the  father's  name, 
And  the  son  is  sure  to  be 
"Just  like  his  father!"  as  she  wants 
The  whole,  wide  world  to  see! 

But  tremble,  Little  Mother, 
For  your  unborn  baby's  fate; 
The  father  tarries  long  away — 
Why  does  he  stay  so  late? 

For  dark  the  night  and  weird  the  wind, 
And  chilled  the  heart  with  fear! 
What  are  those  hideous  sounds  and  cries 
Each  instant  drawing  near? 

Oh,  tremble,  dark-faced  mother, 
At  the  dreadful  word  that  falls 
From  lips  of  pale-faced  demons, 
As  the  black  man  pleads  and  calls. 

For  they're  dragging  Gabe,  at  a  stout  rope's  end, 
And  they  say,  "She  is  bound  to  tell!" 

[19! 


Something  she  knows  not  a  thing  about, 
Or  they'll  "Give  her  the  same  as  well!" 

Oh,  tremble,  helpless  mother! 
They're  beating  down  the  door, 
And  you'll  never  feel  the  father's  kiss, 
Or  the  stir  of  the  baby  more. 

Oh}  the  human  beasts  were  ruthless, 
And  there  upon  the  ground^ 
Two  bodies-  -and  an  unborn  babe — 
The  ghastly  morning  found. 


DECEIVED 

To  war  I  gave  my  first-born,  debonair 
And  over-flowing  with  the  joy  of  life! 
His  heart  was  empty  of  all  thought  of  strife- 
He  dreamed  of  radiant  life  devoid  of  care. 

When  next  Columbia  called  I  gave — I  gave — 
My  little  lad,  my  babe,  my  youngest-born, 
Full  of  the  light  and  promise  of  the  morn, 
And  ready  his  beloved  land  to  save. 

These  two  I  gave,  my  first-born  and  my  last, 
The  Alpha  and  Omega  of  my  love's  dream, 
So  rudely  shattered  by  war's  lurid  gleam — 
My  all  into  her  seething  cauldron  cast! 

Whose — whose  the  condemnation  then,  if  I 
Shame  the  false  lips  that  lured  them  with  a  lie? 


[21] 


THE  BLACK  DRAFTEE  FROM  DIXIE 

(Twelve  Negro  soldiers  who  had  served  overseas  were 
lynched  upon  their  return  to  their  homes  in  the  South) 

Upon  his  dull  ear  fell  the  stern  command; 
And  tho'  scarce  knowing  why  or  whither,  he 
Went  forth  prepared  to  battle  loyally, 
And  questioned  not  your  faith,  O  Dixie-land! 

And  tho'  the  task  assigned  were  small  or  grand,- 
If  toiling  at  mean  tasks  ingloriously, 
Or  in  fierce  combat  fighting  valiantly, — 
With  poise  magnificent  he  took  his  stand! 

What  tho'  the  hero-warrior  was  black? 
His  heart  was  white  and  loyal  to  the  core; 
And  when  to  his  loved  Dixie  he  came  back, 
Maimed,  in  the  duty  done  on  foreign  shore, 
Where  from  the  hell  of  war  he  never  flinched, 
Because  he  cried,  "Democracy"  was  lynched. 


[22] 


TERCENTENARY 
OF  THE  LANDING  OF  SLAVES  AT  JAMESTOWN 


Upon  the  slaver's  deck,  a  motley  band 

Of  blacks  looked  out  upon  the  boundless  main, 

Knowing  with  anguished  hearts  that  ne'er  again 

Their  feet,  with  pride,  would  press  their  native  land; 

Theirs  thenceforth  to  obey  the  rude  command 

Of  masters,  wielding  cruel  lash  and  chain, 

Wringing  three  centuries  of  toil  and  pain 

From  helpless  slaves!  —  Then  waved  war's  magic  wand, 

And,  at  the  sign,  up  rose  twelve  million  men  — 

A  brave,  patriotic  host,  of  great  power, 

To  serve  America  in  her  crucial  hour; 

Titanic  power,  to  bless  or  curse;  for  when 

Pent  wrong,  injustice  and  oppression  break, 

Vesuvius-like,  the  heart  of  earth  they  shake! 


[23! 


TOMORROW 

("Ethiopia  shall  stretch  forth  her  hand") 

Tomorrow!  magic  word  of  promise  rare, 
What  witchery  inheres  in  thy  sweet  name, 
Inspiring  wild  ambition,  naught  can  tame, 
To  conquer  failure — here  or  otherwhere; 
The  rosy  rapture  thou  dost  ever  bear 
Upon  thy  brow,  is  but  the  beacon-flame — 
The  luminous  lodestone,  luring  on  to  fame 
And  high  endeavor!    Simple  friend,  beware 
The  fool  who  says,  "Tomorrow — never  comes"; 
For  opportunities  like  bursting  bombs 
Shall  blast  the  walls  that  limit  us  Today. 
And  a//,  who  wish  within  its  scope  to  stay. 
Time  has  no  end  save  in  eternity 
Of  which  Tomorrow  is  the  prophecy. 


[24] 


FUTILITY 

(To  be  a  Negro  in  America!} 

To  feel  emotion  struggling  and  to  need 
O  Christ,  the  power  to  speak  the  pregnant  word, 
That  o'er  these  earthly  thunders  might  be  heard 
And  flame  the  souls  of  men  to  glorious  deed — 

To  know  the  spirit's  urge  to  rise  and  lead 
The  "hosts  that  sit  in  darkness" — to  be  stirred 
To  light  a  world,  by  wrong  dimmed  and  blurred, 
To  cry  aloud  against  the  groveling  greed 
Of  men,  with  faces  ominous  and  pale, 
Who  stultify  the  souls  of  darker  men,— 
All  this  to  see,  to  know,  to  feel  and  then— 
And  then^  ignoble,  shameful  word,  to  fail, 
Because  convention  spurns  my  human  cry, 
Because,  oh,  luckless  fortune,  /  am  I! 


[25] 


OUR  WOMEN  OF  THE  CANTEEN 

Who  shall  tell  the  story  of  our  women  of  the  canteen? 

Our  women,  golden,  dusk  and  brown 

Ministering  in  France  to  our  brave  boys, 

Our  brave,  black  boys 

Fighting  in  Flanders! 

Our  stevedores  in  France  unloading  the  ships, 

Building  the  roads  in  Picardy, 

That  world-democracy  might  be  a  dream  come  true! 

Was  a  soldier  broken,  dazed  and  exhausted  by  the  hell 

of  war  ? 

Was  his  heart  breaking  with  thoughts  of  home? 
Did  he  yearn  hungrily  for  mother,  wife  or  sister? 

Then  would  come  these  women 

Dusk  and  gold  and  brown, 

And  with  the  tender,  ministering  hand  of  mother, 

Or  with  the  camaraderie  of  sister 

Or  the  soul-sympathy  of  an  understanding  wife, 

These  dark  women  of  the  canteen 

Would  mirror  to  our  boys 

A  bit  of  home,  in  France, 

Heartening  them  for  a  return  to  the  trenches, 

And  to  the  building  of  the  roads, 

And  the  unloading  of  the  ships. 

Oh,  who  shall  sing  the  glory 

Of  our  women  of  the  canteen ! 


.26] 


THE  FREEDMAN 

Aged  and  broken  and  helpless, 
Sapped  with  the  toil  of  years, 
Dumbly  he  questions  the  future, 
Haunted  and  shaken  with  fears. 

Slowly  he  searches  the  sad  past; 
Naught  does  he  find  there  to  shame 
Faith  of  his  heart — he  was  loyal, 
But  whose  was  the  treason — the  blame? 

Blindly  he  faces  Life's  problems; 
Where  are  his  children?  full  five 
Filial  sons  strove  and  labored; 
He  knows  not  if  one  be  alive! 

Meekly  he  ponders,  he  wonders, 
Why^  in  God's  name,  he  should  be 
Adrift  without  rudder  or  compass, 
Sore-smitten  with  age,  on  Life's  sea. 

Vainly  he  questions  the  Power 
Almighty,  that  sweeps  us  along, 
The  lonely  ones  sighing  and  crying, 
The  mighty  rejoicing  with  song. 

Aged  and  broken  and  helpless, 
Sapped  with  the  toil  of  the  years, 
Dumbly  he  questions  the  future 
Haunted  and  shaken  with  fears. 


AN  EASTER  MESSAGE 

Now  quivering  to  life,  all  nature  thrills 
At  the  approach  of  that  triumphant  queen, 
Pink-fingered  Easter,  trailing  robes  of  green 
Swishingly  o'er  the  flower-embroidered  hills, 
Her  hair  perfumed  of  myriad  daffodils: 
Upon  her  trembling  bosom  now  is  seen 
The  frail  sweet  lilies  with  their  snowy  sheen 
As  sprightly  she  o'ersteps  the  springtime  rills. 
To  black  folk  choked  within  the  deadly  grasp 
Of  racial  hate,  what  message  does  she  bring 
Of  resurrection  and  the  hope  of  spring? 
Assurance  their  death-stupor  is  a  mask— 
A  sleep,  with  elements  potential  rife, 
Ready  to  burst  full-flowered  into  life! 


28] 


SHRINES 

Each  heart  bows  low  before  some  cherished  shrine! — 

Westminster  Abbey  with  its  sainted  dead 

Is  hallowed  ground  where  millions  yet  shall  tread; 

Love  rears  the  Taj  Mahal  of  rare  design, 

And  wondrous  beauty  wrought  in  every  line; 

To  Rome  and  Athens  other  hosts  have  led, 

And  where  the  great  Napoleon  makes  his  bed; 

The  faithful  dream  of  ancient  Palestine. 

Some  seek  the  home  of  poet,  martyr,  seer, 

Of  ruler,  beggar,  saint  or  cavalier, 

According  as  these  lives  have  left  impress 

Upon  the  soul  of  man,  his  life  to  bless. 

Each  heart  bows  low  before  some  cherished  shrine — 

The  bitter  cross  where  John  Brown  hung  is  mine. 


[29! 


LIKE  YOU 

Like  you,  He  came  unknown  and  poor, 
And  closed  to  Him  was  every  door. 

His  race,  like  yours,  was  held  in  scorn, 
Like  yours,  was  humble  and  forlorn. 

Like  you,  He  was  of  men  despised ! 
(So  deeply  was  the  King  disguised.) 

The  Roman  rulers  heeded  not 
The  manger-cradle, — His  rude  cot. 

But  Wise  Men  watching  in  the  East 
Knew,  the  greatest  is  often  least. 

They  followed  His  Star,  brought  priceless  things, 
Bowed  low  and  worshipped  the  King  of  Kings! 


[30] 


THREE  SONNETS 

I 

APPEAL 

Three  centuries  beneath  your  haughty  heel, 
Humble  and  ignorant,  debased  and  poor, 
Like  mendicants  before  your  Temple-door, 
The  potentates  of  earth  have  seen  us  kneel. 
With  guileless  art  we  made  our  mute  appeal, 
And  tho'  you  scorned  and  spurned  us,  tried  the  more 
To  love  and  serve  you  better  than  before. 
Your  children  we  have  nursed,  your  evening  meal 
Set  forth :  your  crops  have  reaped,  your  acres  tilled, 
Your  burdens  borne,  your  enemies  have  killed; 
We've  given  of  our  brawn  unstintingly, 
And  of  our  brain,  when  so  you'd  let  it  be. 
Remembering  all,  how  can  you  lynch  and  hate, 
And  with  our  quivering  clay,  your  passion  sate? 

II 
DEMAND 

Torn  from  our  heritage  against  our  will, 

And  here  detained  by  blood-hound  and  by  lash, 

From  dawn  to  darkness  driven  by  "po'  white  trash," 

The  onerous  tasks  to  do, — the  soil  to  till, 

Helping  your  dream  of  empire  to  fulfill — 

Thro'  blood-baptism  and  the  clanging  clash 


Of  war,  and  its  swift  clarifying  flash— 

The  present  finds  us  citizens  (tho*  nil 

Our  rights  and  powers  in  the  common  state)— 

Who  with  the  volume  of  Niagara's  roar 

And  strength  with  which  her  giant  waters  pour, 

Demand,  with  vigor  which  shall  not  abate 

All  the  prerogatives  which  are  our  due 

Without  regard  to  race  or  creed  or  hue. 

Ill 
WARNING 

The  Law  that  spins  these  toy-top  worlds  in  space, 

Divides  the  opaque  darkness  from  the  day, 

Directs  the  shining  of  each  solar  ray, 

Guides  and  controls  the  stellar  chariot-race, 

And  holds  the  whirling  universe  in  place — 

Altho'  no  particle  may  stop  or  stay— 

This  Law  immutable,  you  may  not  sway, 

Or  modify,  or  alter  by  your  grace! 

Unfailingly  the  tides  of  ocean  flow, 

The  giant  oaks  and  modest  pansies  grow, 

Inexorably  following  the  deed 

Comes  without  haste  and  without  pause,  the  meed. 

A  tiny  tendril  creviced  in  the  rock, 

In  time  will  burst  apart  a  granite  block. 


[32] 


OLD  IRONSIDES! 

(Formerly  the  estate  of  Commodore  Stewart,  commander  of  vessel 

of  the  same  name,  and  famous  in  the  Civil  War;  now  a 

school  for  the  training  of  Colored  Youth) 

Old  Ironsides!   Historic  spot  so  fair, 
Whose  generous-spreading  acres  beckon,  where 
In  silent  beauty  sweeps  the  Delaware, 
I  love  you! 

High  on  your  bluff  commanding 

I  looked  afar, 

And  saw  in  retrospect  the  place  where  war 

Dark,  grim  and  terrible 

Forced  Washington  and  his  brave  men 

Barefoot  across  the  icy  flood, 

Fighting  for  independence! 

'Twas  liberty  for  which  they  fought— 

Relief  from  tyranny  they  sought — 

These  heroes  whom  I  sing. 

Around  this  hallowed  spot  there  cling, 

E'en  yet  soul-stirring  memories, 

Of  those  who  walked  your  paths! 

Have  not  these  groves  re-echoed  to  the  cry 

"Before  we  bend  to  tyrants,  we  will  die!" 

Brave  souls  who  wrought  ofttimes  perchance  in  pain, 

Yet  not  one  agony  endured  in  vain! 

Time  has  destroyed  "The  Mansion"  utterly, 

[33l 


And  here  the  walk  has  crumbled  to  decay; 

Upon  that  knoll,  rank  grows  the  shrubbery, 

And  if  one  glances  yonder,  there  one  sees 

The  avenue  of  old  wild-cherry  trees — 

Dim  vestiges  of  former  glory! 

Now  gone  are  those  who  labored,  hoped  and  loved; 

Yet  their  indomitable  spirit  lives, 

And  to  these  dark-faced  children  gives 

The  moving  inspiration! 

Today  I  note  your  busy  crowded  halls, 

Filled  with  those  youths  whom  learning  calls 

To  higher  destinies! 

The  noisy  workshop  sounds  again 

To  tune  of  hammer,  saw  and  plane, 

As  earnest  effort  moulds  to  shape 

The  useful  things  that  go  to  make 

Man's  lot  more  comfortable. 

If  to  be  striving — contented  in  the  work,— 

Which  none  would  think  to  shirk, — 

If  to  love  nature  and  her  beauties  rare, 

Here  bountifully  spread  with  careless  care, 

If  to  be  drinking  at  the  fount 

Which  makes  men  wise, 

And  all-encircling  the  cerulean  skies — 

If  these  things  make  the  heaven  for  which  man  sighs, 

Then  here,  Old  Ironsides,  is  paradise! 


[34] 


THE  FLIGHT 

Away  down  south  in  Dixie-land 
The  place  where  they  were  born, 
Where  grows  the  cotton,  silver-white 
Tobacco,  cane  and  corn— 

I  see  your  beauty,  feel  your  charm; 
I  knew  your  ancient  lure 
For  those  dark  earth-sprites,  who  for  you 
Did  pain  untold  endure! 

But  now  the  cabin  lonely  stands 
Beneath  the  spreading  tree; 
The  old  plantation  echoes  not 
The  weird  slave-melody! 

Gone!  all  are  gone!  how  strange  it  seems! 
I  miss  their  gleaming  eyes— 
Their  loud  guffaws,  whose  hearty  ring 
Floats  lightly  to  the  skies. 

What  do  they  seek?   Where  have  they  fled? 
W7hy  do  they  roam  afar? 
They  go  to  find  the  Promised  Land, 
WTith  gates  of  Hope  ajar. 

Where  schools  stand  ready  to  impart 
The  precious  Rule  of  Three; 

I35l 


And  high  ambition  may  be  served 
To  even  the  last  degree. 

Where  aspiration  soars  aloft, 
And  self-respect  may  grow; 
Where  none  would  limit  nor  confine 
The  man  who  wants  to  know. 

O  Southland,  that  they  loved  so  well, 
The  time  will  come  when  you 
Wishing  them  back,  will  learn  the  truth 
That  faithful  friends  are  few! 


[36] 


WEEDS 

The  little  house  in  which  I  live  looks  out 
Upon  a  garden,  where  I  love  to  walk, 
Or  sit  and  dream  and  listen  to  the  talk 
Of  others,  moving  restlessly  about. 
Sometimes  the  echo  of  a  merry  shout, — 
Again  the  raucous  tones  of  those  who  mock, 
Of  those  who  yield  and  e'en  of  those  who  knock, 
Inflame  my  heart,  or  chill  my  soul  with  doubt. 

These  human  plants  within  the  garden  growing 
Are  they  the  fruit,  the  sample  of  the  sowing? 
And  the  stink-weeds  that  flourish  wildly  there, 
Are  they  as  well  the  objects  of  His  care? 
Of  malice,  envy,  hate  and  strife,  God  knows 
Injustice  is  the  rankest  weed  that  grows. 


1371 


THE  GIFT 

A  priceless  gift  within  your  hand  is  laid, 

A  jewel  fashioned  by  the  Master's  art; 

No  fleck  or  flaw  bedims  its  perfect  heart, 

More  precious  than  are  emeralds — opals — jade. 

This  gift,  for  which  gold  never  can  be  paid, 

Is  freely  given  by  a  Friend,  whose  part 

It  is  to  teach  its  magic — to  impart 

A  knowledge  of  the  why  the  gift  was  made. 

Possession  of  this  talismanic  gift, 

Like  old  Aladdin's  wonder-lamp,  will  lift 

Earth  mortals  high  as  heaven,  rightly  used; 

But  doom  to  Stygian  darkness,  if  abused. 

'Tis  yours  to  will  what  picture  shall  appear: 

The  gift,  a  pure,  unsullied,  glad  New  Year! 


(38) 


RESPITE 

At  close  of  day,  I  couch  me  at  my  ease 
In  solitude,  far  from  dull  mammon's  roar, 
And  let  the  rain  of  thought  upon  me  pour 
In  showers,  hard  or  soft  as  they  may  please: 
Sometimes  like  gentle  patter,  thro*  the  trees, 
Of  joyous  rains  of  spring,  they  touch  the  core 
Of  my  parched  self,  reviving  flowers  of  yore — 
Pansies  and  sweet  forget-me-nots,  to  tease 
Old  memories!  sometimes  a  torrent  breaks 
Raging  with  fiendish  fury  'til  it  shakes 
My  world  of  dreams  wrecking  my  castles  there, 
Leaving  my  gardens  desolate  and  bare, 
When,  from  life's  gilded  pleasures  shut  away, 
I  seek  my  lonely  couch  at  close  of  day. 


[39] 


THE  BIRTH  OF  A  NATION 

Stay!  vain,  deluded  man! 

Know  not  you  never  can 

Attain  unto  your  high  estate  and  rich, 

While  holding  your  dark  brother  in  the  ditch? 

Hold!  rash,  misguided  fool! 

Why  will  you  be  the  tool 

Of  passions,  devilish,  ignoble,  base, 

Wherein  no  God-like  action  one  can  trace? 

Traducer  of  a  race, 

You,  who  are  fair  of  face, 

Stop!  lest  the  children  of  a  darker  hue 

In  love,  shall  prove  superior  to  you! 

O,  brother,  pause!  reflect! 

Each  cause  has  its  effect, 

This  is  the  law:  your  acts  or  soon  or  late, 

Will  reap  a  bounteous  harvest, — hate  for  hate. 


[40] 


PRAYER  FOR  DELIVERANCE 

Father  omnipotent, 
God  of  the  universe, 
Thou  Great  Jehovah, 

We  humbly  beseech  Thee! 

Harken  our  loud  lament, 
See  Thou  our  naked  need, 
Heed  Thou  our  earnest  prayer, 
Witness  our  tears  1 

Father,  the  enemy 
Stealeth  our  lives  away, 
Feedeth  us  bitter  bread, 
Abaseth  our  pride! 

O  God  of  Abraham, 
Isaac  and  Jacob, 
Of  saints  and  of  prophets, 
Our  trust  is  in  Thee! 

Scourge  him  who  scoffeth  us — • 
Useth  us  despitefully — 
Stealeth  our  substance — 

Thy  vengeance,  we  pray! 

O  Thou  who  knowest  all, 
O  Thou  who  seest  all, 
O  Thou  who  rulest  all, 
Flay  and  spare  not! 


VANITAS 

He  breathlessly  pursued  the  dream  of  Fame 

Spurred  on  by  a  desire  insatiate, 

To  win  a  place  secure  and  make  a  name 

Renowned!   Thus  daily  striving,  soon  and  late 

He  wrought;   but  ever  as  he  closer  came 

The  goal  receded:   then  with  quickened  gait, 

Disdaining  aught  of  censure  or  of  blame, 

He  gained  the  height  he  sought  with  heart  elate! 

Oh,  blessed  height  which  he  had  seen  afar, 

Thro'  gloom  and  sunshine,  thro'  distress  and  pain, 

But  ever  luring,  guiding  as  the  star 

Of  hope,  or  as  the  rainbow  after  rain: 

When  lo!   the  sacred  Temple-door  was  barred 

Against  his  tarnished,  craven  soul,  sin-scarred! 


I  42] 


MOODS 

Daybreak  in  the  meadow 

and  the  song  of  the  lark  in  the  sky; 
All  my  hopes  are  winging  and  soaring 

— so  high,  so  high! 

Nightfall  in  the  forest 

and  the  nightingale's  sobbing  song; 
All  my  hopes  are  dead  and  the  darkness 

— so  long,  so  long! 


[43] 


TO- 

Dear  friend  of  mine  whose  magnet-heart 
Hath  joined  mine  own  to  thee, 
Where'er  with  changing  years  thou  art 
Or  near  or  far  from  me. 

O  friend  of  mine,  I'd  have  thee  know 
How  dear  I  hold  thy  worth! 
Thy  sweet  companionship,  I  vow 
O'ertops  the  gauds  of  earth. 

Dear  friend  of  mine,  this  faithful  thought 
May  joy  and  solace  be,— 
Not  separation,  death,  no!  Naught 
Can  change  my  love  for  thee! 


SON 

\Ve  wandered  through  the  meadow,  green  and  cool, 

My  romping,  joyous  little  son  and  I. 

Bright  was  the  rippling  stream  and  we,  withal, 

So  gay,  we  noted  not  the  flying  hours 

'Til  suddenly  the  sun  had  set,  and  gray, 

Dim  shadows  o'er  the  earth  began  to  creep. 

No  longer  now  he  sang  in  childish  glee, 
Or  sought  the  modest  flower  in  cranny  hid; 
But  close  beside  me  walked  in  sober  mood, 
His  hand  close-clasped  in  mine;   then  coaxingly, 
"Tis  dark,  dear  father;  please,  sir,  take  me  home!" 

My  little  son  to  manhood  now  has  grown; 
No  longer  fears  he  shadows  dim  and  gray; 
In  fearlessness  of  youth,  he  braves  the  dark, 
But  I,  who  know  the  dangers  of  the  dark 
And  all  the  ills  which  do  in  darkness  lurk, 

Am  fearful,  lest  he  stumble  and  so  fall 
Into  the  pit:  but  when  Life's  Day  is  done, 
When  burst  all  the  bubbles  he  has  chased, 
And  creeping  come  the  shadows  of  the  night, 
Do  Thou,  dear  Father,  hold  his  trembling  hand 
And  through  the  darkness  lead  him  gently  Home. 


[451 


FRIENDSHIP 

Not  by  the  dusty  stretch  of  days 
Slow-gathering  to  lengthening  years 

We  measure  friendship's  chain, 
But  by  the  understanding  touch, 
The  smile,  the  soul-kiss,  yea,  the  tears 

That  ease  the  load  of  pain. 


[46] 


ABANDONMENT 

I  want  to  sail  out  on  the  flood-tide  of  life, 
To  the  uttermost  reaches  of  self; 
Forgetting  the  petty  conventions  of  men, 
And  the  scramble  for  power  and  pelf. 

I  want  to  sail  out  to  the  Island-of-Love, 

And  couch  myself  there  on  your  breast, 

To  be  soothed  by  your  passionate  viol-sweet  voice, 

And  lulled  by  its  music  to  rest. 

I  want  to  be  warmed  by  the  sun  of  your  smile, 
Refreshed  by  the  rain  of  your  tears, 
Content  in  the  clasp  of  your  compassing  arms, 
As  we  drift  down  the  tide  of  the  years. 

I  want  to  float  out  on  the  ebb-tide  of  life, 
As  mutely  the  death  watch  you  keep, 
And  feel  the  quick  pulse  of  your  quivering  lips 
As  I  fall  in  the  last  dreamless  sleep. 


1 47 


TEARS 

The  World  today  is  sad, 

No  light  is  in  her  eye, 

How  cold  and  pale  she  seems! 

The  dull,  gray  ashes  on  her  lips 

Choke  back  the  rippling  thrills  of  glee 

That  yesterday,  a  joyous  river  flowed. 

Why  does  she  weep  incessantly— 

With  now  and  then  a  momentary  lull 

Succeeded  by  an- outburst 

More  terrific? 

I  wonder  if  her  heart  like  mine, 

Pent  and  restrained, 

Is  sometimes  full  beyond  control! 

Then  comes  the  torrent,  merciful, 

Relieving,  cleansing,  purging, 

And  washing  free  of  care  and  dross, 

The  Soul  left  clean  and  purified. 


[48] 


QUEST 

My  goal  out-distances  the  utmost  star, 
Yet  is  encompassed  in  my  inmost  Soul; 
I  am  my  goal — my  quest,  to  know  myself. 
To  chart  and  compass  this  unfathomed  sea, 
Myself  must  plumb  the  boundless  universe. 
My  Soul  contains  all  thought,  all  mystery, 
All  wisdom  of  the  Great  Infinite  Mind: 
This  to  discover,  I  must  voyage  far, 
At  last  to  find  it  in  my  pulsing  heart. 


[49! 


LOSS 

But  yesterday 
The  wealth  of  all  the  world 
Did  not  exceed  in  value  the  great  gift 
That  heaven  to  me  did  send: 

Today 

The  humblest  beggar  in  the  land 
Is  infinitely  richer  than  am  I, 
For  I  have  lost — a  friend. 


[50] 


ENTREATY 

O,  thou,  who  art  more  fair  than  -words  can  tell 
Or  a  fond  lover's  nimble  fancy  paint, 
May  I  not  come  to  thee,  where  thou  dost  dwell 
With  hope  that  thou  wilt  heed  my  mournful  plaint? 
O,  I.ove,  thou  canst  not  choose  but  tender  be, 
Knowing  my  every  heart-beat  is  for  thee! 


[51] 


TOGETHER 

O,  come,  Love,  let  us  take  a  walk, 
Down  the  Way-of-Life  together; 
Storms  may  come,  but  what  care  we, 
If  be  fair  or  foul  the  weather. 

When  the  sky  overhead  is  blue, 
Balmy,  scented  winds  will  after 
Us,  adown  the  valley  blow 
Haunting  echoes  of  our  laughter. 

When  Life's  storms  upon  us  beat 
Crushing  us  with  fury,  after 
All  is  done,  there'll  ringing  come 
Mocking  echoes  of  our  laughter. 

So  we'll  walk  the  Way-of-Life, 
You  and  I,  Love,  both  together, 
Storm  or  sunshine,  happy  we 
If  be  foul  or  fair  the  weather. 


[5*1 


SUNDAY  ON  GRASMERE  LAKE 

It  was  that  sweet  time  we  call  the  twilight  hour, 
On  peaceful  Grasmere  Lake  we  idly  rowed: 
Before  us,  matchless  beauty  lay  revealed 
In  sky  and  hill  and  gently  sloping  wood. 

The  myriad  thoughts  that  to  our  lips  came  thronging 
We  could  not  speak,  but  all  entranced  sat 
While  at  our  boat  in  tender  rhythmic  cadence 
The  laughing,  dancing  wavelets  softly  tapped. 

No  scene  in  all  creation  could  be  sweeter! 
The  tiny  cloud  that  o'er  the  hill-top  hung, 
The  quiet  vale,  the  brown  dove-cote  *  half  hidden 
Would  fire  to  song  even  the  most  halting  tongue. 

Small  wonder  that  the  poet  was  inspired 
To  sing  of  this  fair  spot  he  loved  so  well! 
Not  Bobbie  Burns  nor  yet  the  Bard  of  Avon 
Could  of  his  haunts  a  lovelier  story  tell. 

Then  suddenly  in  voice  deep  and  subdued 
One  began  the  "Ode"  of  Wordsworth's  to  repeat, 
"On  Immortality,"  thus  ending  fitly 
A  holy  day  with  holy  joy  complete. 


*  Wordsworth's  home  is  called  Dove  Cottage. 

(531 


LIFE  AND  DEATH 

Life 

I  saw  the  candle  brightly  burning  in  the  room ! 
The  fringed  curtains  gracefully  draped  back, 
The  windows,  crystal  clear! 
Upon  the  generous  hearth 
Quick  Wit  and  bubbling  Laughter 

Flashed  and  danced, 

Sparkled  and  pranced, 
And  music  to  the  glowing  scene  lent  cheer. 
It  was  a  gracious  sight, 
So  full  of  life,  of  love,  of  light! 

Death 

Then  suddenly  I  saw  a  cloud  of  gloom 
Take  form  within  the  room: 
A  blue-grey  mist  obscured  the  window-panes 
And  silent  fell  the  rout! 

Then  from  the  shadows  ,came  the  Dreaded  Shape,- 
The  candle  flickered  out! 


(54l 


GOD 

I  know  a  lot  of  folk  who  think 

That  God 

Is  just  a  great,  big  tub 

Of  Grub. 

Descanting  on  His  bounty 

They  will  measure 

His  prodigal  treasure 

By  so  many 

"Head  o'  hogs,"  "bushel  o'  grain"  or  "barr'l  o'  potatoes!" 

But  to  me 

God  is  the  lily's  dream, 

The  low,  sweet  note 

In  the  thrush's  throat — 

The  sun-beam's  glory  by  a  dew-drop  caught! 

He  is  the  mighty  tide 

Gripping  old  ocean's  side — 

The  mountain's  thought! 


(551 


SPRING 

Spring,  thou  wilful,  changeful  maid, 
Venturesome,  yet  half  afraid 
King  Winter  to  defy, 
Come,  with  all  thy  airs  and  graces, 
Perfumes  sweet  and  flower-laces; 
When  he  thy  rare  beauty  faces, 
He,  of  love,  will  die. 


[56] 


POETRY 

What  is  poetry? 

A  thought  of  beauty — truth, 

An  emotion  rife  with  ruth— 

With  love! 

All  rhythmically  expressed, 

Carefully  groomed — exquisitely  dressed. 


(571 


ECSTASY 

Your  eyes  star-worlds  of  beauty  are, 
My  long  road  blazing  from  afar, 
Sweet  Emily! 

The  essence  of  the  rose's  musk 
Bathes  your  wine-lips  as  through  the  dusk 
They  summon  me! 

The  downy  pillows  of  your  breast, 
Sweet  Eden  where  my  soul  would  rest 
Eternally! 


(58 


COMPENSATION 

In  my  infinity  of  loss 

I  seek  to  find  the  gain,— 

The  tender  glance,  the  word  of  love, 

The  kiss  divine — in  vain! 

No  priceless  gem  of  memory, 

But  ah!  the  pain,  the  pain! 


l59l 


EGYPTIAN  SPHINX 

Inscrutable  and  awe-inspiring  Sphinx, 

Inimitable  and  immortal,  whose 

Majestic  head  of  massed  and  matted  kinks 

Constrains  alike  the  savant  and  the  muse 

To  marvel  at  thy  muted  mystery! 

What  age-long  memories  thy  face  betrays! 

What  moving  visions  thou  hast  seen — dost  see! 

Thou  art  the  symbol  that,  to  present  days, 

The  ancient  years  indubitably  links! 

Wherever  men  their  righteous  voices  raise 

Such  deeds  of  grandeur  to  extol  and  praise, 

The  Sons  of  Africa,  who  builded  thee, 

Through  us  shall  swell  the  song  of  jubilee: 

And  matchless  thou  shalt  stand,  imperial  Sphinx. 


[60; 


BEAUTIFUL  HANDS 

To  a  Skilful  Surgeon 

Not  perfectly  moulded,  not  smooth  and  cold 
Suggesting  the  touch  of  senseless  gold, 
But  warm  and  pulsing  hands,  tenderly 
Thrilling  the  wealth  of  a  heart  to  me. 

Hands  that  are  willing  and  busy  and  warm; 
Hands  that  are  eager  to  shelter  from  harm; 
Hands  that  are  capable — potent  indeed, 
Quickly  outstretched  to  another's  need. 

Ready  and  restful  hands,  loving  and  strong, 

But  soothing  and  soft  as  a  lullaby  song; 

Hands  with  the  magic  given  suffering  to  ease; 

Oh,  who  would  not  worship  such  dear  hands  as  these! 


[61] 


LINCOLN 

Upon  the  dedication  of  the  Lincoln  Memorial  at 
Washington,  May  30, 1922 

Son  of  the  people,  softly,  sweetly  rest! 
Thy  universal  heart  felt  all  the  woes 
Of  mankind!  They  only  were  thy  foes 
Who  hated  right — who  loved  the  evil  best: 
How  hard  man's  cruelty  upon  thee  pressed, 
Thy  deeply-lined  and  tragic  visage  shows! 
Thy  great  soul-agony,  only  God  knows, 
When  this  great  Union's  fate  was  put  to  test! 
But  trusting  in  Jehovah's  power  to  guide, 
Nor  caring  if  the  whole  world  should  deride, 
With  granite  will,  thou  stoodst  the  Right  beside. 
Thus  from  the  lowly  cabin  thou  didst  climb 
To  hallow  this  memorial  sublime, 
And  men  shall  love  thee  to  the  end  of  time. 


[62] 


OLD  OCEAN  AND  THE  SHORE 

Lovers  in  Three  Moods 

I 

Smiling,  big  and  full  of  joy, 

I  saw  Old  Ocean  rush  upon  the  Shore: 

With  wide-spread  arms 

He  caught  her  to  his  heart. 

I  heard  him  chuckle  softly  to  himself; 

I  saw  his  fingers  stroke  her  sea-weed  hair; 

He  kissed  and  kissed  and  kissed  again 

Her  lush,  responsive  lips! 

And  she  who  had  been  pale  and  cold 

Grew  warm  and  dimpled  at  his  touch. 

II 

I  saw  Old  Ocean  sullen,  moody,  mad; 

The  Shore  stretched  out  her  shell-like  hands  in  vain; 

No  bubbling  laughter  greeted  her  sad  ear; 

He  offered  no  caress. 

He  glowered  at  her,  grumbling  through  his  teeth! 

Oh,  he  was  dark  and  sinister! 

He  would  not  look  upon  her,  waiting,  wan! 

God!  I  could  better  bear  his  blows 

Than  this  indifference! 

•     [63] 


Ill 

I  heard  Old  Ocean  warring  in  his  wrath! 

He  shook  and  slashed  and  swore  with  fury! 

With  heavy  fists  he  beat  upon  the  Shore; 

He  tore  her  hair; 

He  screamed  and  raged; 

He  bruised  her  tender,  shining  flesh; 

He  gripped  her  with  the  strength  of  many  giants,- 

Shrieking — lashing — kicking — 

Until  at  length,  his  jealous  fury  spent, 

He  sank  exhausted  in  her  waiting  arms! 

"  'Tts  we//,"  the  Shore  said  softly, 

"For  he  loveth  much" 


[64] 


THE  NEW  YEAR 

The  New  Year  comes — -fling  wide,  fling  wide  the  door 

Of  Opportunity!  the  spirit  free 

To  scale  the  utmost  heights  of  hopes  to  be, 

To  rest  on  peaks  ne'er  reached  by  man  before! 

The  boundless  infinite  let  us  explore, 

To  search  out  undiscovered  mystery, 

Undreamed  of  in  our  poor  philosophy! 

The  bounty  of  the  gods  upon  us  pour! 

Nay,  in  the  New  Year  we  shall  be  as  gods: 

No  longer  apish  puppets  or  dull  clods 

Of  clay;  but  poised,  empowered  to  command, 

Upon  the  Etna  of  New  Worlds  we'll  stand — 

This  scant  earth-raiment  to  the  winds  will  cast — 

Full  richly  robed  as  supermen  at  last! 


[65] 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


2004 


A     000129443     8 


